


All These Things That I've Done

by Ruth809



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Books, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Literature, M/M, Montreal, Music, New York City, Paris (City), Romance, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Travel, lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruth809/pseuds/Ruth809
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister, a magazine editor, is on a flight from Paris to New York. Also on the flight is Brienne Tarth. The two of them share nothing in common. But that will change when they encounter each other. A spark grows, a realization that both have met in a long ago past. Within the eight hour flight, their lives will change in ways they could have never anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Note: With reading the amazing fan fics of Jaime/Brienne, I knew I wanted to do the same. The flashbacks are of the same time period as with Game of Thrones. Some of the locations are mentioned in presence tense. The titles of the chapters are titles and lyrics of songs, including the story's title, by The Killers. Once again, I’ve not read the books, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the show (still reeling from last season) and I only want readers to be entertained, regardless of mistakes. Helpful feedback is welcomed, not negative ones. And don’t worry this is a fluff novel, with a reasonable amount of tension and hardship. Just like Jon Snow knows nothing, I own none of the characters.

** **

 

 

 

 

**Chapter One**

 

Somewhere

* * *

 

_Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for meeeee…_

     Brienne hears the tune in her iPod. Galladon loved the song, always singing it before he went surfing. He flew over and under the waves, his head bobbing above whenever he fell. But her brother always smiled and once his feet touched the sand, he’d declare his return with the next line of the song. _My lover stands on golden saaaaands…_ She has her iPod on shuffle, finding herself smiling at the memory. That lasted for ten seconds, just when she convinces herself that Galladon’s head did pop up from the water. That he swam to shore, singing out of breath. That his lungs were filled with air and not of water.

     Next to Brienne, Margaery shifts in her seat. She’s wearing the complementary eye masks that were offered for business class passengers. The benefit of having Loras working for American Airlines as one of the communications director and saving up the air miles is what made the trip to Paris possible. Gallandon’s death and of her father’s a month later sent Brienne into a crippling depression. Margaery noticed her best friend withering in front of her eyes. Just until seeing the sharp outline of her cheekbones. It prompted for her to plan a two week vacation to both Paris and the French Rivera. Brienne’s spirts lifted up while walking the streets, shopping at the high end boutiques, feeling the wind whipping her hair into a froth from above the Eiffel Tower. The grief came in waves. Feeling the joy of being with Marg and drowning in the sorrow of losing her father and brother. Selwyn had died of a broken heart that stopped beating.

     “Are we there yet?” Margaery mumbles as she adjusts her neck pillow.

     “Marg, it’s only been an hour since we took off.” Brienne replies.

     “Meh, can’t this plane go any faster?” Her whining makes Brienne chuckle. “This trip was your idea.”

     Marg stretches her long elegant neck. The strap of her green tank top slips of her tanned shoulder. While at the pool, men and boys casted many glances at her. Hunger and desire filled their eyes, their hands began to flutter with wanting to cop multiple feels. The white bikini fitted her like a dream. Brienne, on the other hand, was completely brushed off. Not that it matters anyway, she thought to herself. But it has always mattered to her. She was often taunted by her size when she was a girl. Her square shoulders would make a football player envy. Thighs that were the shape of tree trunks. Social skills that deemed her hopeless. _They’re nasty little shit, Brienne_. _Who cares what they think_? Renly said this to her at their prom. Loras, Renly and Marg have served as a family for Brienne. The support system that has sought her through.

     Tucked inside Marg’s newly purchased Hermes bag is the latest issue of _Rebel_. It is within the ranks of _Rolling Stone_ , focusing on not just pop culture, but current events and gaining a wide audience. Gracing the cover is Snowstorm, the music duo featuring Renly and Jon Snow. Renly’s smoky sideways glance made for Brienne to blush. But she knew full well that Loras claimed him. Although Brienne was happy for them both, she felt somewhat dejected with losing her very first crush to a guy. Not everyone was happy with Renly coming out, especially the Baratheons, whom promptly disowned him. Brienne has already read the interview in which Renly spoke about his former family. “Good fucking riddance. They didn’t deserve me anyway.”

     She flips past the advertisements. Renly modeling a pair of Ray Ban aviators. Ygritte’s neck tilted up as she sprays the new fragrance from Gucci. Her sleek gingery hair flying upwards against the wind. Brienne flips to the next page, skimming through the editor in chief’s letter, also the founder of _Rebel_. If Renly made her blush, then Jaime Lannister increases the heat in her cheeks. His face screams perfection. The perfect amount of stubble covers his chiseled jawline. The electric green eyes cuts through Brienne. His smile is smooth, slides like butter that makes her melt.

     Instinct makes Brienne turn her head to the left. Her eyes rapidly blink, her head begins to throb.

_In full armor, with the white cloak whirling around him, he took off his helmet. He dramatically flips his gold locks of hair. He had a self-satisfying smirk on his face. Everything about him was of grandiose. Ruthlessness. Conniving. Dishonorable._

     Jaime Lannister had his head perched on the neck pillow with his arms crossed. The blush on Brienne’s face burns throughout her whole body. She is sure that her whole face is of a scarlet red. A mark of shame with being overly aroused. As for the flashback, Brienne might contribute it to two things. Watching an unnamable medieval themed film with Brad Pitt. And then having had three glasses of wine, being too drunk to watch her step and making her smack her head against the car door when she was leaving Margaery’s house.

     Jaime’s seatmate returns from the lavatory, blocking her view. In a way, she is grateful. But on the other hand, Brienne tries to resist the wild urge to run her hands through his hair, kissing his neck, smelling the musk—

     “Jon’s lucky to have snagged Ygritte. Look at her.” Margaery interrupts Brienne’s demented fantasy.

    _No. Look at him._


	2. Born to Die

     Jaime shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable without having his back ache. His chest is knotted with anxiety. He feels as if he is being pushed against the seat. He tries to take soothing breaths like the therapist suggested to him and Myrcella. It had been mostly for her benefit to see one as she was still having nightmares from the accident. Her screams pierced through Jaime, the guilt eating him up. She insisted on having him sleep in her room. At times, she clung onto to him, her tears rolling onto his arm. Jaime’s blood simmered, raging against his sister. The sister that was his lover. He blinked his eyes, still seeing Cersei’s quick glance at the engagement party with Robert. It spoke of her hopeless affliction, the untamed lust that would always burn. Jaime stiffened, gripping the wine glass until it cracked, cutting his palm.

     The next image was of Cersei driving home after dinner. She made a sharp turn towards the highway, away from Casterly Rock, the wealthy suburb just outside Manhattan. She increased the speed, smiling to herself as the barometer steadily increased, ignoring Jaime and Myrcella’s protests. Jaime knew the steely gaze. The accusation of his betrayal. She confused a female intern for a girlfriend. In the calmest of voice, driving past the bridge, Cersei said, “If I can’t have you, no one can.” A moment of weightlessness and then—

     Jaime experiences the panic, before realizing it is only turbulence. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead. Taking out his laptop, Jaime attempts to distract himself as he edits the interview he conducted with Ellaria Sand, the actress/model that has taken Europe by storm with her portrayal as a female assassin in _The Slow Burn_. The film won the _Palme d’Or_ at Cannes and cemented her to international acclaim with her performance. What has also made her famous is of her recent engagement to Oberyn Martell, also an actor and notorious playboy. He is known for his quick temper, a serial dater who has declared of his refusal to marrying. By some miracle, Ellaria has managed to tame him. Jaime enjoyed their company, the interview going extremely well. Ellaria mentioned the workings of fate with both her and Oberyn being from Dorne. The island nation off the coast of Spain.

     Each have expressed their condolences to Jaime over the accident. Oberyn pushed aside the tragedy that befell him that had a connection with Jaime. His sister Elia and her children were vacationing in New York. It was during the drive to the airport where an SUV violently slammed against their car, killing them instantly. The driver, Gregor Clegane, worked as an associate for Lannister & Baratheon, the law firm Tywin and Robert founded. What caused an uproar was Tywin both serving as Clegane’s defense attorney and shifting the blame to Elia. If it weren’t for Clegane fleeing the scene of the accident, his sentence would have been less. Jaime made a brief mention of the case in his letter. “Some people just don’t deserve to have a license.”

     Opening his inbox, Tyrion sent an email. He gives an update on Tommen and Myrcella. Tommen spent the evening with Tywin, saving himself the risk of joining his mother, Robert and Joffrey. He inherited Cersei’s temperament of cruelty and callousness and excess lifestyle. Joffrey found plenty of addictions of both underage girls and illegal drugs. His last girlfriend (if you can call it that) suffered the trauma of the assault and of waking up to his corpse onto of her. A coke binge was his demise.

_They’re okay. In the morning, I found Myrcie with Tommen in his room, sleeping on the floor. They had their clothes on, don’t worry. I’m off with Sansa for Costa Rica next week. I’m winning her over so keep your fingers crossed. Take care, bro._

     Jaime smiles at his brother’s attempts to lift his spirts. Of all the Lannisters, Tyrion has the clearest of morals. He was the target of Cersei’s malice of their mother dying after giving birth to him. If was one thing that Jaime refused to tolerate was Cersei’s bullying. People saw past the height restriction and instead admired him for ditching the law firm and doing pro-bono work. Tywin bemoaned against Jaime’s choice in switching majors from Law to English Lit. Tyrion always failed to win his father’s approval. That was until he got accepted into Harvard. After a year working for the law firm, Tyrion decided to represent the less fortunate, sending Tywin into a rage. He is the only one who knows of the children’s real father disguised as their uncle. 

     The Atlantic is expansive, stretching below Jaime. He itches to hold Myrcella and Tommen in his arms. There is a peculiar relief, knowing he could hug his niece and nephew. Cersei hovered over them, making sure that their bond is severely limited.

_Niece? Nephew? You’re pathetic._ Jaime allows for the taunting to continue, rubbing his head. He is about to get up to go to the lavatory, when he is blinded by the iron rod that spears in between his eyes.

 

_He bounced painfully on the horse, his vision blinded by the burlap sack covering his face. His hands were shackled._

_He fell off the horse. He tried to get up, but the pain prevented him to do so. The sunlight blinded his eyes as he stared up. She did not appear to be a woman. Her size betrayed her femininity. Her armor hide her body. She scowled at him, shaking her head in disgust. He found himself doing the same._

_“You’re much uglier in day light.”_

     The woman is large in size. But she isn’t hideous like the flashback Jaime experienced. Her face is dusted with freckles. Her blond hair combed back. She wears long jeans and a light blue V-neck shirt that perfectly matches her eyes.

_In this light she could almost be a beauty…_


	3. Do You Know Me

          Margaery slides her thumb across her iPhone, admiring the photos of their trip. The sparkling strip of ocean. The elaborate resorts and shops. Brienne’s arms stretched wide open at the Eiffel Tower. In that brief moment, Brienne forgot her sorrow, the heartache that has become a permanent fixture within her heart. “Photoshop before you post.” Brienne dictates to Margaery who scoffs. “Forget it, Brie. If you eat a little more, then you’d look even prettier. We need to do another trip very soon.”

            “I have a shop to run, you know.” Brienne’s longtime love affair with books made her want to own her own bookstore. She co-owns _Bookends_ with Catelyn Stark, who Brienne considers to be a second mother. Brienne’s vacation is a paid one. Arya sent Brienne a text just while she went to the lavatory. _Hey, B! How’s the trip going?_

_It was amazing. I’m flying back to New York right now._

_Hope you brought me something. We miss you tons!_

_Miss you guys too! XOXO._ The tears are filling up her eyes, knowing she has a surrogate family waiting for her back home. Margaery jabs at Brienne. “We’re in luck.” The inflight entertainment offers a wide range of movies and shows. Nothing made the girls happier than watching a marathon of _Breaking Bad_. Margaery got Brienne hooked on the show, binge watching the first two seasons in one day. Watching the antics of Walter and Jesse would make for a good distraction. By the end of the flight, Brienne and Margaery would finish watching the first season.

            Brienne worries for Margaery with how she is munching on her sushi and emitting a spontaneous snort, seeing Walter cooking meth seminude and of Jesse getting beat up. “Marg, quit snorting. And stop eating you’ll choke.” What also worries Brienne is of the quick glances from some of the passengers.

            Marg pokes Brienne with her chopsticks. “That’s why you’re here. To perform the Heimlich maneuver. Now shut and let me enjoy the show.” As Margaery slips back her headphones, she pauses and says, “bitch.” She echoes the usual insult Jesse utter at the end of his sentences. Brienne rolls her eyes.

            When Brienne could no longer tolerate the cramping in her legs, she gets up and decides to stretch her legs. The cramps begin to travel until reaching her head.

 

            _She dragged the canoe, annoyed of the jabs and insults of her prisoner. However annoying the journey will be, she must keep her oath in returning him home. She could see the smirk hidden in his bushy beard. His locks of hair were greasy, but he still managed to maintain his handsomeness._

_He climbed into the canoe and opened his mouth and said—_

 

            “—wench.” The insult completes the flashback. Brienne spun around catching Jaime Lannister mumble the long ago insult. “Excuse me, did you just call me a wench?” The attraction melts out of her. She fights the urge in hiding the hurt creeping up her face. There should be a small consolation of Jaime’s horrified expression in realizing what he called her. “Oh god—gods—I’m so sorry for saying that,” He places his hands in front of him as if he is about to deter Brienne’s fists. “I just—I wasn’t referring to you—it was some else.” The culprit of Jaime’s recklessness is the two empty glasses of wine. His face flares with embarrassment. “Had too much to drink.”

            “Apparently you have.” Brienne is slightly amused for some reason. “Might I suggest some ginger ale?”

            Jaime’s shame makes it hard for him to glance to Brienne. When he does, something quickly fills in his eyes. Recognition. _I’ve seen your face before. But where?_ He opens his mouth to speak, but clamps it shut. “I apologize.”

            Brienne nods her head, accepting his apology.


	4. The Things We Do For Love

          Even after Brienne accepts his apology, Jaime can still feel the shame burning in his face. The red wine loosened him up a little too much. He still couldn’t shake the apparent hurt in her blue eyes. What also occupies his mind is of the recognition she also discovered. Jaime orders a ginger ale. In a way, he is hoping Brienne sees him heeding her advice. Jaime’s seatmate, Jorah Mormont, orders black coffee. For the duration of the flight, he has been snoozing, his headphones jammed into his ears. He appears older, his face scrubbed raw with different shades of skin color. But has that rugged appeal women go crazy over. He discreetly yaws as he takes a careful sip of the piping hot coffee. “Hope I wasn’t a bother to you.”

            Jaime shakes his head. “Not at all. You’re one of the most well behaved seatmates. I’ve dealt with much worse.” Jorah Mormont chuckles. “The nice thing of my job is flying business class, away from the general population. Working for one of the most famous designers in the world is always an adventure.”

 Jaime’s eyes travel to the brown leather bracelet with the dragon insignia. From the _Mother Dragon_ fashion line, created by Daenerys Targaryen, or Dany T as she is widely known. At a young age, she has been able to build a fashion empire. Her fashion line for men and women has made her a force to be reckoned with, always pushing the limits with her designs. Madonna was spotted wearing the wrap around leopard dress, with the matching pair of pumps. Pia attended one of Dany’s shows during New York fashion week, getting the chance to chat with the designer. Her interest perked up when Pia mentioned of her working at _Rebel_. Jaime and Dany instantly hit it off. She was more than happy to team up with him for the anniversary issue, gracing the cover, wearing a risqué tight fitting dress with a sequined dragon that barely covered her breasts. “Dany really loved the photo shoot. It did land you guys in hot water.”

            “That’s what _Rebel_ is about. She is the perfect example of one.” Jaime caught of whiff of Jorah’s shirt. “ _Puff Dragon_?”

            “Cheaper to steal the fragrance than buying one.” Jaime’s favorite fragrance is _Slayer_. Myrcella loved _Fly_ , which he purchased for her birthday. Cersei snatched the perfume away from her, handing the shattered bottle to Jaime when he visited. “I won’t have my daughter wearing that slut’s perfume.” _Our daughter, you mean._

            “Love working for her. She’s had a tough year, losing her father and fiancé.” Jaime feels an instant kinship with her. Her work is a distraction, similar to Jaime’s. “I attempted to bake her a dragon cake for her birthday. It ended up looking a bloated snake with wings. On the same day, I ordered a huge bouquet of snapdragons, but tripped on the sidewalk and breaking my wrist.” Jorah signs, finishing his coffee with a gulp. “The things we do for love.”

 

            _The boy saw them kissing and touching, their passion amplified. The forbidden passion that would get them killed. He watched the fear in her eyes, her lips trembling._

_He got up from the bed, watching the boy perched from the window. He glanced at his lover, then at the boy. “The things I do for love.” His arm catapulted through the boy’s chest, sending him flying._

Jaime need not guess where the flashback originated from. Jaime and Cersei’s forbidden romance had a devastating consequence. Not of their children, but of another child.

            Brienne returns to her seat. _In this light she could almost be a beauty…_ She wore the tiny stud earrings shaped like dragons as they swirled around yellow snapdragon. “Nice earrings.” Jaime murmurs. She touches her ear, unsure if she should believe him. “Thank you, Mr. Lannister.”

            “That would be my dad. Just call me Jaime.” Brienne sees the bubbling ginger ale. A look of approval crosses her eyes. “Followed you advice.”


	5. These Dreams

      Brienne continues to touch her Mother Dragon earrings, experiencing the returning blush. The accidental insult is instantly forgiven. Margaery switches from _Breaking Bad_ to _Pineapple Express_ another film glorifying the greatness of illegal substances. Brienne witnesses Margaery giggles at James Franco being on the receiving end of his friend’s handheld vacuum cleaner. Brienne picks up where she left off on _Breaking Bad_. The Atlantic transforms into an onyx. The cap of twilight is of a murky lavender. Only three hours have passed. Five hours to go.

      The scenes blur with each other. Her eyelids become heavier. She tries to shake her head, to keep herself awake. It is of no use to Brienne. Exhaustion drags her away. She sinks into a dreamless sleep. And then…

 

_An argument turned into a sword fight. Twist, turn, side to side, back and forth. Their swords sang as they clashed against each other. A deadly dance. A waltz. Mess up your footwork and your head would roll. She had a vision of her decapitated head being pressed down by the victor’s foot as he would raise his sword in triumph._

_Not a chance, she thought. His eyes are of swords, cutting through her. They sneer. They mock. That only made her swing her sword faster. And harder._

      Her nap lasted half an hour. She groans, rubbing her head, wondering why she continues have these dreams. She digs into her bag for Advil, swallowing three of them. Jaime is concentrating on his iPhone. “Do you like swords?” The question slips from her mouth.

      “I’m sorry?”

      “I mean—do you like them?” _Stupid question._ “Have you used one?” _Even stupider._

       Jaime scratches his head. “Well, my brother Tyrion bought a sword in Comic Con. He has it displayed in his office. I used to do fencing when I was a kid. I sucked horribly at it. A waste of money for my dad. Why’d you ask?”

_No blush, no blush, please no blush!_ “Uh just a random question.” Jaime’s smiles, making for the heat to expand from her chest to her neck.

      “I like random questions. It keeps interviewees on their toes.” Jaime comments.

       “Now, while on the subject of swords, might I interest you in one?” Jorah reaches to his bag, taking out a black velvet box with Mother Dragon stamped with gold lettering. Each of the swords in the watch are different. The face of the watch is of a dragons open mouth. “They’re just samples. I need to lighten my luggage.” He gives one to Margaery, who is trying not to squeal in excitement. “Brag about the style. Not how you got a $150.00 watch from the publicist.”

       “This. Is. Beautiful!” Margaery rejoices at their luck. “This is turning out to be the best flight so far.”

_It’s beginning to look that way._


	6. Come Home

_Hi Uncle Jaime! We’re having lots of fun with Uncle Tyrion. He took us to the Plaza for tea and dessert. Some of the people gave him funny looks since he’s so short. He stuck his tongue out when they weren’t looking. Myrcie screamed again last night because of a nightmare. She slept inside my sleeping bag in my room. We can’t wait for you to come home._

_Love,_

_Tommen_

This would be a bad time for Jaime to burst into tears. The ache in his chest intensifies as he continues to take deep and cleansing breaths. Tommen is trying to keep a brave face. At the funeral, Tommen shed tears as Myrcella openly sobbed. Tywin admonished his grandson for crying, not even bothering to scold Myrcella. “We Lannister men keep a dry face.” He said harshly.

            “It’s worked well for him, that’s for sure.” Tyrion grumbled, in reference to his face.

            Jaime decides to send a few photos of the trip to Myrcella, as she is obsessed with going to Paris. He had planned to ask Cersei if he could bring her and Tommen along. The dead pan look killed Jaime’s confidence in asking. A few minutes later, Myrcella responds.

 

            _Hey, Uncle Jaime. Thanks so much for the photos. Things have been okay with me. I’m still seeing the therapist. I’ve been trying the breathing exercise she taught me. It doesn’t help that much, though. Please come back home soon, Uncle Jaime. Come home._

His niece’s plea rings in his mind. _Come home. Come home. Please come home_. The last place Jaime wants to return to is Casterly Rock. Although he has an apartment in Lower Manhattan, it is too close for him. He would have to confront the memories he doesn’t want to confront. The kids are living with Tywin at the moment. Jaime would be more than willing to relinquish custody to his father as the circumstances of him and Cersei would destroy their lives again. However, Tommen and Myrcella have quickly gained a closeness to Jaime that had always been there, with Cersei standing in between. When he was alive, Robert had a strong dislike with Jaime. As did Stannis. Stannis’s resentment grew worse with Jaime featuring Renly in the magazine. At a dinner party for the law firm, Jaime heard Stannis badmouthing Renly and adding, “Jaime’s desperate for more subscribers so he had to advertise the family drama.” As soon as the party ended, Jaime made sure his words were measured and his anger in check. “Let me do _my_ job and I’ll let _you_ do yours.” Jaime paused and whispered. “Asshole.”

            Jorah murmurs his client’s name in longing and anxiousness. It is an unmistakable sign of love. The waiting game. Not knowing if you should take the next step or keeping still. Jaime offers a sympathetic smile.

            He watches a French film with English subtitles. A knight gallantly rides through the forest. Leaping through logs, his sword bouncing with him. Sleep leads Jaime away, despite his reluctance. _Oh shit, I know where this is going…_

_The rope is embedded behind his wrist. If he tried to loosen them, the rope cut deeper into his skin. He had no choice in being with the wench since both were tied against each other. One wrong move and they would fall off the horse. Thanks to the carelessness of their duel, both were taken prisoners._

_You stupid big cow! Look what you got us into. He was too tired in saying this out loud. Her large shoulders slumped in defeat. He made the effort to keep herself upright._

“Ever ridden on a horse?” Jaime inquires to Brienne. Jorah assumes the questions is for him as he spoke of growing up in a horse ranch. Jaime politely listens to his seatmate, stealing glances to Brienne. She points to herself, knowing that the question is for her.

            “I always wanted to ride. But I was too scared to do so. Not to mention having the little shits gain more reasons on making fun of Big Brienne.” In the bitterness, Brienne still feels the hurt of the taunts.

            “That’s ridiculous.” Jorah admonishes Brienne’s insecurity. “Why you have the perfect build to riding. And you’d look pretty damn good riding one.” Brienne stares at Jaime, trying to understand what Jaime is saying. _You’d look good doing just about anything._ The blush amplifies to her cheeks. Jaime instantly regrets his silent complement as she has taken it for flirting. Brienne bites her lips, looking down, smiling to herself.

            _What the hell has gotten into me?_


	7. Paradise

       Brienne doesn’t need to turn her head to feel Margaery’s smug smile with the confirmation of her excessive blushing. Coming to the conclusion of the blooming lust she is experiencing with Jaime. “Well, well, look who’s turning pink?”

       In a vain attempt to ride herself of her blush, Brienne rubs her hands on them. But it will only make her skin blotchy. “Why do you care?”

        “Brie stop pretending not to notice how Jaime fucking Lannister keeps looking at you. You also do the same thing. You’ve fallen harder for him than the decrease of cabin pressure. Perhaps an exchange of business cards? Phone numbers?” Margaery wags her eyebrows.

         “Ugh, Marg. Get back to watching James and Seth getting high.”

           “It would be them getting high before the apocalypse.” Marg resumes _This is The End_. As to prove Margaery and herself a point, Brienne forbids her eyes to move to the left. Under the overhead light, Jaime’s scar is more visible. As if the scar itself is a hollowed out river. There is another one peeking out from his shirt, above his neck. Brienne runs her fingers across her own neck and cheek, envisioning the scars carved in her skin.

            She tilts her head back, closing her eyes, trying to ride herself of these stupid thought. The hum of the plane sooths her. She slips into a relaxed state...

            A grumble and another jolt of turbulence disrupts Brienne’s attempts to relax. Margaery appears worried as she stares out of the window. The sky is the color of a murky swamp. The clouds are a thick cottony carpet billowing under the plane. As Margaery buckles her seatbelt as is instructed by the lightened sign, she mumbles, “Crap. I hope this plane doesn’t, like crash or anything.”

            “I’m sure it won’t. We still have four more hours until we reach New York.”

            “Four hours? Seriously?” Margaery whines. “I’m gonna take the longest hot bath when I get home. The things I do for you.”

            Brienne kisses her forehead. “Which I’m grateful.” The plane slightly rattles. Margaery wraps herself around her blue fleece blanket. Jaime is still hunched over his laptop, furiously typing. In the second Brienne closes her eyes, the grey become a blue. A lush green island appears from out of nowhere, surrounded by the purest of blue waters.

           

            _She might have been big for the captors’ size. But five of them dragged her away from the fallen knight. She thrashed, yelled and fought them off. She knew what they were about to do._

_“Her father will pay you in sapphires if she returns home alive. And her womanhood intact.” He spoke for her. Verbally expressing his kindness._

_The men dragged her back. Her honor still intact._

“Next random question: Have you been to Sapphire Isle?” Brienne became comfortable in asking Jaime.

            “New Zealand, you mean?” Brienne nods. “I had a great-great-great grandfather, who was a general in some battle for independence. This is according to my father.”

            “My great-great-great grandfather fought in the same war. For your side.” Brienne gives a quick history lesson of the war. As she speaks, Jaime’s eyes grow larger, refusing to believe the common bond of a historic battle. “Are you sure we’re not related?”

            Brienne is speechless. She has run out of blushes with using up her reservoir. “I’m not sure. I hardly look pretty enough to pass for a Lannister.”

            Jaime shrugs his shoulders. “Wouldn’t matter, anyhow. You look good either way.” The heat radiates throughout her body, settling nicely in her chest. But it goes deeper as she experiencing herself blossoming.

            For the first time, Jaime and Brienne don’t hide their smiles with lowered heads or bashfulness. They reveal themselves.


	8. A Heavenly View

         It is not even a few seconds before the plane experiences more turbulence. The smile leaves Jaime’s face and becomes a frown. He closes his laptop, not bothering to finish editing the article. Jaime never had a problem flying. But it was before the car accident. Before the split second terror of flying off the bridge and crashing into the canal.  _Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. Deep breaths—_

         There is a sliver of thunder that illuminates inside the dark cabin. Rains pelts the window. More jiggling and jousting. Jaime breaks out in a cold sweat. “Damn, would you look at that storm?”

        “I’d rather not.” Jaime quickly turns to Brienne. She and Margaery peer nervously to their window. Brienne shares in Jaime’s fear. Jorah doesn’t seem to be in any anxiety. Taking out his phone to capture the webs of lightning bolts. It’s Jorah’s chance to impress Dany in offering another design idea.

         With every dip, Jaime’s heart twists. His skin cold and clammy. He is unable to turn his head towards Brienne. He hears her comforting Margaery. “Look, they would never risk anything. This is the safest way of traveling.” Jorah’s soothing is interrupted by the pilot’s announcement. Due to both weather conditions and having limited contact with LaGuardia, the flight will be rerouted Logan International Airport. The groans last for three seconds before the plane rattles again.

         Jaime zones out from the turbulence as he is violently dragged away…

 

_…and slammed onto the table. The wench still had her womanhood as he had requested. The knife is pressed against his eyelid. Sharp enough to draw a tiny drop of blood. It was a horrible mistake to use the threat of his father, the all-powerful lord, for returning unharmed._

_The knife was quick. His sword hand severed from his wrist. There was no feeling. He only felt disbelief. And then he screamed._

          The plane continues to rumble as Jaime tucks his head in, bracing for the crash. “It’s okay, Jaime. We’ve landed.” Jorah consoles a trembling and nauseous Jaime. There is no use for him to collect himself since he has destroy any and all dignity in the presence of the other passengers. His right hand is still clenched into a fist. He forces himself to take steps as he receives concerning looks from the other passengers. _This will lower their subscriptions for the magazine._

        Instantly, goosebumps rise up from his arms as she shivers from the icy air from the airport. In the first cushioned seat he spots, Jaime sinks in and takes out his laptop, seeing that Tyrion is online on Skype. His brother’s face appears. “Jaime? Where are you?”

      “Logan International. We had to make an emergency landing because of bad weather.” Jaime reports.

        “There was some bomb threat at LaGuardia and some of the incoming flights had to be diverted elsewhere. You look like shit.”

        Within the reflection of the screen, Jaime spots a dark circle under his eye. His hair is matted over his forehead. “Thank you very much for the complement, brother. How are the kids?”

         “Having a movie night.” Tyrion waves the DVD copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_. When Jaime is about to yell, Tyrion shows him _Maleficent._ “The only reason why Sansa wanted to watch it was to make fun of it afterward. I mean, come on would I traumatize Myrcie and Tommen further?”

        Myrcella and Tommen scramble to the laptop with huge smiles on their faces. “Uncle Jaime!” They delightfully say in unison. The weariness subsides as he speaks with them both. Tommen makes the same comment as Tyrion on his appearance. “You look like shit.”

          “I had better hope you haven’t used that word in front of your grandfather.” Jaime suspects of Tyrion spewing his usual arsenal of swear words. Dealing with the justice systems sometimes makes even the best lawyers lose their temper.

            “Don’t look at me. Blame his classmates.” Myrcella’s sweet face serves as a salve for Jaime’s heart. Her hair is in a messy bun. Cersei would have never allowed her to wear the giant _Mother Dragon_ shirt Jaime purchased. Or of the one of _Family Guy_ that Tommen is wearing. In her green eyes, Jaime can see a burden lifted from their eyes in not having to deal with their mother, especially Myrcella. It is the same one they had when Joffrey died, never having shared any love whatsoever with their older brother.

            “Can you bring us back gifts?” Tommen asks eagerly.

            “So as long as you stop swearing.” He turns off his laptop, the guilt and shame devouring what is left of his heart.

            _I failed them. I failed my…_ Jaime could not bring himself to think of those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The landing is loosely based on Nikolaj Coster Waldau's interview on Jimmy Kimmel in 2013, while promoting season three in where he had a very bad flight. 
> 
> https://tune.pk/video/3465109/nikolaj-coster-waldau-al-jimmy-kimmel-live-parte1-sub-ita


	9. Secrets

          “The bomb threat was a complete false alarm. Might have been some teenager looking to have his idea of fun.” Catelyn chats with Brienne. She had taken a warm shower and changed into other clothes. She is luxuriating in the cushioned seat, her legs curled up under her.

            “Could it have been Bran?” Brienne jokes.

            “He wouldn’t be able to use the ‘I’m-a-handicap-teen-so-please-have-mercy-on-me’ excuse. How long are you going to be stuck in Heathrow?”

            “They’re trying to find another flight for us. It might take a few hours. I honestly don’t mind since they’ve given us gift cards to spend here. And the business lounge has everything.”

            “Oh, I’m sure Margaery will complain to Loras about the detour.”

            “How’s Sansa doing?”

            “She’s getting ready for her trip to Costa Rica. It’s with Tyrion Lannister, the lawyer? They seem to be getting closer.” At the mention of Tyrion, Brienne’s thoughts are diverted towards Jaime. There is a pleasant warmth swirling around her chest. “Tyrion is such a gentleman. Even for his size he always pulls up chairs for Sansa.”

            “His brother Jaime is the editor-in-chief of _Rebel_.” Brienne is almost breathless with excitement. “In fact, he’s—”

            “Yes, I am well aware of Jaime Lannister.” Catelyn responds coldly. “The magazine is amazing. But I can’t say the same for the man himself. I hope to the gods, he never has to get behind the wheel of any car.” Brienne wants to ask what she meant. But she switches to the subject of the arrival of newly released books. Catelyn’s revulsion to Jaime lingers in Brienne’s mind. _What could she have meant?_

_The disgraced knight had revealed himself within the steaming bathtub. A wounded man. A wounded lion. It was truly a miracle to see him laying everything bare. His sins. His memories. His despair. His eyes are red as they hold on to her own. The pain was too much for him as he twisted in agony, collapsing into her arms._

Brienne finds Jaime reading a complimentary copy of _The Boston Globe_. She knows that he is hardly reading anything as he stares blankly at the newspaper. His hair is still moist from the shower he took. He is wearing jeans and a navy blue fleece pull over sweater. She can smell the woodsy musk that lingers over him. It is an invitation for her nose to come closer. “Jaime?”

            His mouth lifts. But it is without a smile. “What’s up?” His briskness alarms her, taking a step back. “Sorry, Brienne. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

           She presses forward. “If you want to talk to my about anything, I’m listening. It’s just…What I mean is…” _I had a vision of you and me talking in a bathtub. Butt naked._ “You look lonely.”

           Jaime considers this offers with both surprise and then a smidgen of relief. Brienne sits next to him discreetly inhaling the musk.

          “Bless me Brienne for I have sinned.” The joke comes across as flat for Jaime. “I’m assuming you work with Catelyn Stark? At _Bookends_?”

         “Yes, of course.”

         “Cersei, my sister, loved wine. When I say this, she couldn’t spend one night without drinking a glass. She wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, but you know she loved wine.

          “But on that night…she had several glasses of Merlot and was too stubborn to allow me to drive us home. With her, once she made up her mind, there wasn’t any way she would back down. In every stoplight, I begged her to let me drive. But she wouldn’t listen to me. She was about to reach the stop sign when she pressed her heel on the accelerator. And then…” Brienne witnesses Jaime’s remorse unfurling. “I saw Bran Stark lying on the side of the street. His bike destroyed. Cersei couldn’t stop crying. I don’t think she was horrified with hitting Bran, just of the fact that she would get arrested. So, I took the blame. Payed for all medical cost. And used my father’s services to get me off. I knew I would pay a huge debt later on with my actions. Turns out I was right.” Brienne finds the urge to wrap her arms around Jaime when he speaks of the recent accident. Of Cersei’s determination of killing him and his niece out of jealousy.

         “But Jaime, why didn’t you tell Catelyn about it?”

         “What good would that have done? She judged me from the moment she set eyes on me. And I can’t say I blame her. Lost her husband and was about to lose her son. She has every right to despise me.”

          She tries to find the correct words in how to convey her emotions. “Grief comes in waves. One minute you’re fine. The next minute you’re falling apart. It’s a vicious cycle of regret and guilt. It consumes you.” This is both her observation of Jaime’s grief and her own.

           “We really are related.” Jaime says quietly. In a bold move without any thought, Brienne places her hand on his. He holds his palm up, allowing Brienne to slip her hand into his warm one. When he glances at her, the relief and gratitude is apparent in his softened green eyes.   
  



	10. It Must Be Love

 

            After talking to Brienne, there is a partial weight lifted from Jaime’s shoulders. Even now, he still defends Cersei for her drinking. The toxicity of their love is still entrenched in him. It is something he wants desperately to let go off. However, he isn’t able to do so. _Or maybe I don’t want to_.

The group of passengers made do with their bad luck as they congregated for a late night dinner. Joining them is Daario Naharis, the model featured in the marketing campaign for Dany T’s _Slayer_. Margaery is seemingly cozying up to the exotic hunk, taking a seat next to him in the booth. He has returned from Dubai after a photoshoot. “Amazing we were in the same flight without even knowing it.” Jorah comments to Daario.

          “Avoiding you is my part time job.” Jorah takes Daario’s smug as a joke.

         “What’s it like being a model?” Margaery asks dreamily. The watch glints under the hanging glass blown lamp.

         “People think it’s easy and glamourous to be a model. Sometimes the job is fun. But it’s not always the case. I’ve had to go to the goddamn Sahara Desert for a magazine shoot and fell off the camel and spraining my wrist.” Both Jaime and Jorah snickers.

           Brienne slips next to Jaime in the booth. She wears a light and flowery fragrance. He finds himself inching closer, until his tight is touching hers. If it weren’t for her blushing, she would have done a good job in hiding her excitement. He draws back. _I need to stop. I’m making her uncomfortable._

           Margaery nearly bursts with pride when Daario complements her outfit. “You should consider being a model. You have a lovely figure.”

         “Why thank you.” She crunches into her celery stick with coy. “I might just take up your offer.” Jaime is amused with Brienne’s best friend. “She always flirting, isn’t she?”

         “Only with men as hot as Daario. She’s ambitious when it comes to men.” Brienne takes a generous bite of her steak.

            “How about you? Any taste in men?” Jaime’s question makes for Brienne to stop her fork in midair. “No, not interested in men. I’m not exactly the perfect prototype for the opposite sex. I used to be called Big Brienne back at school.”

            With a bit of makeup, Brienne can pass for a beauty. Her redeeming asset is of her sapphire eyes. Also of her humor, thoughtfulness, kindness. Jaime can continue to list the great qualities of Brienne.

          “You are more athletic than large. Have you done any sports?”

             “Not really. A bit of yoga and kickboxing. My brother was a surfer. Now he had the perfect body the girls would flock over for.” Brienne stabs a carrot stick, riding the waves of lettuces and ranch dressing. She drenches the carrot stick deep under the waves, illustrating to Jaime of Galladon drowning. “I’m sorry Brienne. For your brother.”

           She give a sad smile. “Thanks Jaime.” As he reaches for his wine glass, it spills over her jeans. “Crap!” Jaime grabs napkins and attempts to dry her wine stained thigh. Her muscles stiffen but suddenly relaxes, giving an inaudible moan. Jaime pats her thigh, slowly. He experiences a heat beginning inside his groin.

         He sharply draws his hand back, feeling the heat climb up to his neck. Brienne is perfectly still, her hand gripping the seat. “It’s only wine.” She whispers.


	11. The Maiden Fair

         Margaery gravitates to the makeup counter with Daario’s acknowledgment of her beauty. Brienne does the same, looking over lipsticks and eyeliners. The phantom sensation of Jaime’s hand on her thigh remains with her. Her whispering it’s only wine was a translation of its no big deal. As much as Brienne wants to deny the truth, it assaults her. “I liked it.”

         “Oh you do?” Brienne’s horror of Margaery overhearing her arousal to Jaime’s touch disappears when Margaery holds up a container of lipstick. “I think I want to go for the au natural look. You should get one of these.” Brienne rubs the sample of lipstick on her lips. The rose matches well with her completion, giving her lips more volume. _Jaime would like this_ … _oh no not again._

        Margaery goes to the counter to inquire about the flight. She returns in a huff. “How the hell can they still be working on finding a flight for us?”

       “It’s not so bad, Marg. We could be flying economy and not be in the lounge.”

      “You’re right.” Margaery takes out the pack of the _Would You Rather_ card game. “This should help us pass the time. Would you rather…” She drawls. “Give up eating pizza for the rest of your life in exchange of getting paid a million dollars?”

      “Give up pizza for life? I couldn’t do that.”

         “I always have sushi and Godiva to fall back on.” She hands the cards to Brienne. “Okay, would you rather live in a world with big friendly gummy bears or a world with hover boards? I’m going with the gummies.”

         “Me too. I can do an Ozzy Osborne on them. Would you rather…eat a plate of fried tarantulas or…jump into a bear pit?”

 

_She had been given a wooden sword to defend herself from the brown bear. She tried to stand firm against the beast, not caring about the jeers of the men chanting about the maiden fair in the tattered pink dress._

_The bear’s claw cuts through her neck, flinging her like a rag doll. The next thing she saw was of the kingslayer recklessly leaping into the bear pit._

_“What are you doing here?” She asked._

_“Something stupid. Now get behind me.” He pushed her back as she tried to do the same with him. In a strange way she felt glad, fighting a common enemy together. Once she climbed up, she grabbed his arms, heaving him up towards her. Eventually, after his instance of her leaving with him, they pushed aside against the crowd._

_“Why did you return when you were well gone?” She asked._

_He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I dreamed of you.”_

         “Hey, Jaime! Can we ask you something?” Brienne spots Jaime coming closer to them. “Would you rather eat a plate of fried tarantulas or jump into a bear pit?”

         “Bear pit.” He answers automatically.

         “The same thing Brienne answered.”

          Jaime smiles. “Great minds think alike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Would You Rather" questions are based on this article from BuzzFeed. And obviously the scene is based on the episode "The Bear and The Maiden Fair"
> 
> http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/the-15-most-difficult-would-you-rather-questions-of-all-time#.qi1qwvm8


	12. If You're Not The One

            “I find it hard to believe you are still stuck in Logan.” It’s a phone call Jaime dreaded making. “Can’t you find another one?”

            “Dad, it’s fine I really don’t mind waiting.”

            “If that crack addicted teenager who pulled off the bomb threat wants me to represent them, well they can find someone else. I can’t handle more controversy.”

            _Guess you didn’t think about that when you were defending Clegane._ Jaime thinks bitterly. “How are the kids?”

            “Tommen is well. Myrcella continues to scream in her sleep. I had to buy earplugs just so I could sleep.”

            “You can’t blame Myrcie. She went through a severe trauma, of course she’s going to have nightmares. Listen, as soon as I come back, I’ll take the kids with me for the weekend.”

            “In that apartment of yours? They are both staying with me at the moment. You can see them every day if you wish.” Tywin is also standing in the way of Jaime’s relationship with the kids. Jaime mumbles a goodbye to his father, tossing his phone inside his bag. He considers taking another shower, but stops. Brienne is reading in her kindle, comfortably curled up in the chair. Her legs are the size of tree trunks. He can imagine her kicking up one of her legs seductively to him, waiting to be caressed.

            “Mind some company?” Brienne shook her head. “Is Margaery cozying up with Daario?”

            “She said she would be discussing career options with him.” Brienne uses air quotation marks to illustrate her doubt.

            “She might need to seal the deal first.” Jaime says. Brienne nods her head smiling. “Marg’s like a sister to me. She’s been there for me through these past few months.” She stops talking and looks to Jaime. “I’m sure you must miss your sister a lot.”

            Robb Stark didn’t need to tell Jaime that Cersei was killed. He might have hated Jaime, but he still had a job to do as both a surgeon and a bearer of bad news. Jaime’s first thoughts were of Myrcella. She suffered a fractured arm, a few bruises and scrapes from where the glass was embedded in her scalp. The emotions arrived in quick succession that left Jaime reeling. He shed tears of grief. Gripped the side of the mattress to prevent himself from losing control. And then finally, Jaime felt the one emotion that he was just as painful as them sharing a private bed: relief.

            “It’s gotten easier for me. The only thing I can focus is on my kids.” Brienne nods in understanding. She doesn’t notice on his reference to them. _My kids._

              The planes are guided to the runway in preparation to take flight. Brienne joins in Jaime’s silence. His once darkened mood is being lifted by both the dawn breaking and of the planes lifting gracefully to the sky. He allows for the smile to appear. For Brienne to see.

 

_She had kept her oath. He had returned battered and dirty. Striped of his dignity. But alive nonetheless. He exchanged a genuine look of gratitude to her. He had changed before her eyes. The once feared kingslayer was a shadow of his former self. He was more of a human, not of a monster._

_He did not need to say thank you to her, for his eyes spoke volumes._

         “Praise the gods, we’re finally flying home. One more hour of torture.” Margaery exhales. Daario taps her shoulder and asks if they can sit together. “Hope Brienne wouldn’t mind?”

         She waves them away. “Go ahead. She’s beginning to annoy me anyway.”

         “Well, maybe Jaime can keep you company.” She says this to Jaime. He turns his head sharply to Brienne, his eyes with a hint of hopefulness. “You can if you want. Jorah left for another flight.”

          Excitement fills her, sitting beside Jaime. She tries to stop her thighs from twitching, her mouth from grinning. Her cheeks are a hopeless cause as they begin to warm up. The plane barrels across the runway, lifting upwards, as is her heart. There is a comfortable silence between them, having spoken about everything. Margaery is close to Daario as she whispers something. He smiles and whispers something back.

          Brienne breaths in Jaime’s scent of musk. Warm and sweet with a bit of spice. She allows for the blooming to begin, her finger crawling towards his. Jaime pretends not to notice, allowing for her fingers to tuck themselves inside. She gently rubs his wrist. He does the same as it sends exploding bubbles up her arms. Finally both hold each other’s hand. A simple gesture that is the first milestone in any relationship. Brienne prevents herself from getting ahead, only focusing on Jaime’s warm hand holding hers.

          There isn’t any need to hold down her grin. Because Jaime’s own grin coaxes her to do the same.

 

_She encountered the sister. Regal in her dress, her hair. A coldness is in her green eyes. A hint of jealously of how the maiden spent so much time with her brother. The maiden gave her testimony on how he saved her life more than once. She tried to suppress the growing admiration she felt. The Queen Regent was not assumed. She commented on the people the maiden had served and sworn to protect. The ones whom she failed._

_“I don’t serve your brother, Your Grace.” The maiden attempted to stand firm, but felt herself shrinking._

_“But you love him.”_

_Those four word echoed in her mind. She turned to him and saw his gaze. He was back to wearing his armor, his gold hand glinting. There was no longer arrogance, but of a certain weariness that only she could see._

_She turned to the Queen Regent, her point proven. But that illusion of love was destroyed with the simple truth of the true nature of their relationship._

        Jaime moans her name in his sleep, squeezing his arms as if hugging her. The name sends a chill to her spine.

        “Cersei.” His sister.

        Her mind goes blank for a few seconds, not knowing what to think or say. Jaime opens his eyes, the truth in his eyes. The silence is smothering her. She is unable open her mouth, for only her eyes speak, blinking rapidly. _Is it true about your sister? You slept with her?_

         Jaime nods, knowing what Brienne is saying. He is heavy with remorse. With guilt. With sorrow. With failure. When Brienne should have been repulsed, she finds determination. To push away what he had done and find the true nature of him. In the eight hours of a flight that spanned a lifetime, the flashbacks of a long ago past, Brienne understands the life she is meant to live. And the person who she is meant to be with. _It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We have a chance—_

         He is heavy with resignation, shutting down any and all hope for a future together that would evolve through time. _I’m sorry Brienne. It can’t happen. I’m not the one for you._

 

 


	13. Already Gone

        “…we are reaching our final destination for LaGuardia…” Brienne has her back turned away from Jaime. He wants desperately to reach out, to apologize, accepting her offer to give this love a chance.

_What’s done is done._ Jaime thinks sadly. The plane lands with a not so gentle bump. He gives Brienne a gentle bump on her foot. “We’re home.”

         “Hmm.” Brienne rubs her eyes, ignoring Jaime completely. They wait for the other passengers to leave. Brienne brushes off his offer to help her with her roll-on, depending on Daario. Margaery is rosy with triumph with snagging Daario. His back is encased with cement, his lungs heavy with the weight of his rejection. He can disguise these feelings with jet lag.

          He silently marches behind Brienne, being blasted with the chilly air of the airport. The noise is too loud, the people too close, the emotions too raw. “What an adventure, no?”

         “It was.” Jaime responds to Daario.

            “Considering the detour, it was pretty good. Got a lot done.” Margaery says cheerfully. Brienne nods her head. Brienne turns to Jaime. Those blue eyes illuminated with the light and a sheen of moisture. Her clothes are rumple, her body slightly slumped over. Those thoughts form in his heads once more. _In this light she can almost be a beauty…_

          “Amazing flight. Had…fun.” Jaime says awkwardly.

          “Went…well. So I guess this is farewell.” They live in the same city, but it is unlikely that they would willingly meet again. Jaime bit his bottom lips, wishing he could have accepted her offer. Something holds him back. _What’s done is done._

          The words quietly fell from his mouth. “Goodbye Brienne.” He could see her arms twitch with wanting to give a hug. They suddenly became stiff. “Goodbye Jaime.”

 

_She rode off to fulfill another mission. To keep another oath. The words are trapped, the feeling he wanted to suppress are being felt at that moment._

_As she turned her head, he realized he was losing her. He remained rooted to the ground._

_Goodbye Brienne._

           Brienne walks away without turning her head.

 

Two Months Later

 

        Pop. Pop. “Podrick…” The popping continues. “Podrick!” He slaps the sheet of bubble wrap down. “Would you quit playing with the bubble wrap and help me with these books.” He hurries towards Brienne as she heaves the new shipment of books. Catelyn saw potential in Podrick as a cashier. His only issue is of distraction, having a mild case of ADHD. Since he’s worked at _Bookends_ , Pod has slowly graduated from an introvert to outgoing. Customers delight in chatting with Pod. It’s hard not to like him. Ayra arrives from the back room to lend a hand, her iPod jammed into the pocket of her jeans. Brienne recognizes the song she quietly singing to from Maroon 5. She has helped Pod in coming out of his shell. Brienne can tell that he is quickly developing a crush on Ayra. But sadly, she’s dating Gendry. _Poor Pod_ , Brienne thinks to herself.

      “I can’t believe people reads this shit.” Ayra scrunches her nose and holds up _Fifty Shades of Grey_. “I read a few excerpts with Gendry. I wanted to beat the shit out of Ana’s inner goddess. Sansa watched the film to make fun of it. And did she ever.”

        “Talk all you want about E.L. James, but she’s laughing all the way to the bank.” Catelyn ties her hair into a tight bun. “Who are we to judge people on what they should or shouldn’t read, however trashy it is? And speaking of which,” She snatches the book away from her daughter. “I’m going to have a chat with Gendry’s parent on reading this smut with my daughter.”

         “Mom, no!” Ayra whines.

        Brienne’s back begins to ache as she leaves Pod to arrange the rest of the books. She stops at the magazine rack, scanning the different covers. Next to _Rolling Stone_ is _Rebel_. An up and coming indie band from California is featured on the cover. Her hand hovers above the copy, gingerly picking it up. Dany T publically credited Jorah Mormont for the idea of her brand new fragrance _Lightning._ The photo he took from the plane served as the background with Dany brandishing a lightning rod. Her platinum blond hair in an elaborate bun with miniature lightning rods. Margaery leans on a yellow taxi in a tight red dress, her arms crossed. Since meeting Daario, Marg has found a new job at a modeling agency. They continue to keep in touch.

         Against her judgement, Brienne flips to the editor’s letter. A pair of sunglasses are perched above his head with the same sly grin he has. He is looking sideways, away from the camera. The silent confession on the flight might have tugged his eye away, knowing that Brienne would gaze at him. The jet lag and fatigue masked the emotional exhaustion she experience after saying goodbye to Jaime. She knows where the offices are located, could get in touch via email and even send a friend request on Facebook.

_I’m not the one for you._

        Catelyn calls for Brienne, breaking her reverie. She hurriedly places the magazine back in it’s place.

 


	14. Somebody Told Me

       “I can’t believe you turned down Ellaria Sand’s wedding invitation.” Bronn stares at disbelief at Jaime. “The most talked about and most anticipated wedding of the decade and you turned her down?” Oberyn arrived at her photoshoot, boldly getting down on one knee and proposing to her. The photo was plastered all over the world, shared multiple times in social media. Jaime contacted Ellaria in congratulating her. She immediately extended an invitation to the wedding that would take place in Dorne. “You have people working for you, Jaime. It’ll be fun. And you can even bring your niece and nephew along. We have a fabulous kid’s resort.” The idea to go was tempting. But he had had enough of flying planes. He was also physically and emotionally drained. He politely declined adding, “The Lannisters send their regards.” 

       “Hopefully you and Tyrion. Not your father.” Ellaria teased.

        “I turned her down, okay?” Jaime huffs. “And don’t expect me to send you there because you’ll get drunk and grope some girls.” Pia nods in agreement. Bronn is a veteran in the field of journalism. For over two decades, he’s reported in dozens of locations. He is the poster boy of working hard and partying harder. 

       Jaime has developed the ability to go on autopilot where he is entirely focused on his job and not on his personal life. He performs his tasks, meets with writers and designers, and looks through the materials for the next issue. Appearances are everything to Jaime. Tywin is the master of appearances. Cool and in control. This is a skill Jaime has honed for most of his life.

        Jaime has no reason to drive to work with being a train ride away. Through the turnstile, feeling the blast of air as the train roars to a stop. He keeps his head down, in no mood for human contact. Twenty minutes later, Jaime walks the three blocks until reaching Riverrun, swiping his key card to enter the opulent glass apartment complex. Jaime drops his bag, uncapping a bottle of Guinness. Cersei hated beer and would give Jaime a hard time whenever she came to the apartment. He hops on a stool, raising his bottle in the air to no one. Perhaps in defiance to Cersei.

         He goes for bottle number two when his phone rings. “You’re lucky father hasn’t called you. Dinner party 8PM. You forgot didn’t you?”

        “Shit, do I really have to go?” Jaime knows the answer to the question. Tywin says it is expected of him to attend. Having to mingle with people he would rather stay away from. However the upside is of seeing Tommen and Myrcella. On Friday’s, he picks up the kids from school and either go to Central Park, catch a late afternoon movie or have dinner. Each share their days, their struggles with grieving for their mother. Jaime senses that they hold back on more. It is a first step, gaining their trust.

        A piping hot shower makes for Jaime to feel somewhat better. He chooses a grey dress shirt with khaki chinos. Before he leaves, Jaime stares at the carpet of blue that is the Hudson River. It glimmers under the setting sun. He doesn’t even prevent from thinking of Brienne. He looks to his watch. He’d been standing in the same spot for three minutes.

        To gain enough courage and stamina to face his father’s associates, he cranks up the volume on his radio. To emulate his no-bullshit stance, he enlists Jay-Z to help him out. Through _Rebel_ , Jaime exposed him to music he never thought he would like, especially rap. He spent nights at jam sessions, hearing freestyle raping.

He pulls up the gates that yawn for him to enter. The lighted fountain in the roundabout had been refurbished throughout the years. Cersei’s favorite pastime as a child was dunking Tyrion’s head into the fountain. Jaime had to retrain her in order to let his brother escape as he gasped for breath. The tradition was repeated when Joffrey did the same thing with Tommen. As for Myrcella, a swift kick in the groan made for Joffrey to think twice before messing with her again. She wasn’t the only one who had to use that form of discipline. Tyrion was the expert disciplinarian and with his size, Joffrey knew when to back off.

        There is a soft yellow glow surrounding the sprawling manor. It appears warm and welcoming to outsiders driving past House Lannister as Tyrion jokingly refers to it. It is a mere illusion. Pia and Bronn went to one of the dinner parties hosted by Tywin. It wasn’t even an hour when Jaime felt Pia’s unease. Bronn was never intimated by anyone and enjoyed seeing the guests cringe as he spoke of the time when he sampled a huge plate of fried crickets in Thailand. It was where Cersei first encountered Pia, making sure that Pia shrunk under her steely and laser beam glare.

       “What’s up, Gold Lion?” Tyrion is leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed with a look of amusement in his face. “Great song you’re singing to.” Jaime didn’t realize he is humming _Holy Grail_.

        “I needed an instant pick-me-up. Is Sansa with you?”

         “You kidding? She swore she would never one foot here again. Sansa is a sweetheart but she wouldn’t put up with our dearly departed sister’s bullshit. I swear she looked like she was about to slap Cersei at the New Year’s Eve party.”

        Jaime enters the great hall, which is really a den. Tywin had a deep appreciation for the 18th century that he remolded the house as a replica of an 18th century style manor, but with a modern twist. A chill slices under Jaime’s skin, seeing the guest milling around. The first person to greet Jaime is Petyr Baelish. He is ruthless in the courtroom, sniffing people’s weaknesses and always with a scheming look in his black beady eyes. Tywin trusts his judgement and has sworn his loyalty to the firm. “Well good evening, Jaime. Glad to see you here.”

         “A pleasure.” Jaime withholds the urge to rub his throbbing temple.

          “You look unwell.”

           “Only stress. Thank you for your concern.” Maester Pycelle hands tremble as he hold the plate of cheese and crackers. The beginning stages of Parkinson’s. Barristan Selmy pretends to listen, nodding his head and looking at his watch. Selmy mouths a hello, his eye scream with displeasure in being forced to listen to one of Pycelle’s incoherent ramblings. Jaime searches for the kids. At first sight, his heart leaps for joy as Mrycella and Tommen skip down the stairs, straight into his arms. “We thought you weren’t coming, Uncle Jaime.”

        “Tom-Tom I would happily put up with these dinner parties if it means seeing you.”

       “Hey, what about me?” Myrcella pouts.

         “Yes, you too Myrcie.” Tommen is in discomfort wearing the black suit that matches Tywin’s. The pink summer dress hangs from Myrcella’s body. Jaime has tried to fattening her up, coaxing her to indulge on desserts instead of the other way around.

        Tywin is chatting with Stannis and Selyse, looking every bit intimating as in a court of law and a board meeting. Selyse is bored, more so than Barristan. “Well, Jaime. About time you arrived.”

          “Hello father, Stannis, Selyse.” Only Selyse gives a nod of acknowledgement. “Where’s Shireen?”

           “She had her appendix removed. Davos is looking after her for the evening. Thank you for asking, Jaime.” Stannis remains quiet, his expression betraying nothing. He is considered the heir apparent to the law firm, if and when Tywin dies.

            “If you’ll excuse us, I need to discuss in private with Jaime.” The glint of disgust slowly fills up in Stannis’s eyes as he leaves. The crickets’ nightly symphony is already in progress. Magnolias drench the night air with their rich aroma. “How are things in the firm?”

          “Always the same. Nothing to concern you since you write about insignificant garbage.”

         “I’ve heard worse.” Jaime mutters. He decides to shift to neutral territory. “I’m concern about Myrcella. She hasn’t been doing well.”

         Tywin snorts dismissively. “Just like her mother, always wanting attention.” In the dark, Jaime furiously rubs his temple. “That’s ridiculous to suggest such a thing. She is nothing like Cersei. Listen, if you want to insult me I’ll just leave—”

         “No. Stay.” He commands. “I would like to discuss with you the children’s future. Their parents are dead. I’m unable to care for them full time. Tyrion isn’t capable to do so. As for you…” His hand flutters to erase the spoken thought. “I have decided for them to attend Ashemark Academy.” Only the children of the rich and powerful could afford to attend. For Jaime it was a miserable existence.

        “How can you contemplate on sending them to boarding school? They’re still grieving the loss of their mother. It’s going to make things worse.” Jaime’s voice trembles with disbelief and anger.

           “You sound just like the therapist. I’ve begun the arrangements. They’ll be attending at the end of summer. Now that we’ve discussed that issue, I would like for you to do a paternity test.” The air became heavy. His legs weakened. The migraine gets worse. “I’ve had my doubts on whether Robert is their biological father.”

          “He should be. I mean Robert is their father.” Jaime breaks into a cold sweat.

           “And that’s what I want to confirm. If you believe without a shadow that Robert Baratheon is the father, then there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

           Jaime nods is more of a tremble. “I’ll do the test.”

         “Then it’s settled. Hopefully I can put my suspicion to rest. Because it would be a pity to have their _uncle_ separated from his niece and nephew.” Tywin hisses into Jaime’s ear. “After all, we can’t have the Lannister name be tainted, now would we?”


	15. It's Our Time

 

            Margaery snuggles in the leather seats, sipping on the fizzy Champaign. “Now, this is what I call living.” Renly arranged for a limo for both the girls and Loras as they would be arriving in style at _Empire_ where Snowstorm would be performing. It is the hangout spot for celebrities as they indulged on overpriced drinks and enjoy a spectacular view of the Empire State Building. The tickets for the show sold out within three hours.

              “Ah the perks of dating a DJ.” Lorah sighs in delight. “Marg did a fabulous job with picking out your dress.” Brienne did give credit to Marg for choosing the knee length sapphire dress. She never felt comfortable exposing her bare arms as they were heavily dusted with freckles. Marg forbad her from bring a shawl to cover her arms. “Freckles are beauty marks. There is no need to hide those gorgeous arms.” She gave them a soft squeeze.

              Margaery elegantly steps out of the limo, sauntering to the entrance. A long line of people waited for their turn to go in. Some stare at the three with envy and contempt. Margaery confidently presents her ticket to one of the bouncers. “Extra special guests of Renly’s.” He grunts, motioning them inside. Margaery makes a beeline to the bar, ordering a martini. Brienne knows that throughout the night, she’ll switch to heavier drinks. Brienne and Loras order Cosmopolitans, weaving through their private booth. The club is heightening, anticipating for Snowstrom’s arrival. When they do, the club goes wild. The whole place pulsates with the music, the lights whizzing past her eyes.

            She loses her insecurities, dancing with her friends, yelling out the lyrics, pumping her arms above the crowd. She savors each second, losing herself within the lights, the boundless energy. Brienne joins Margaery in doing tequila shots, experiencing the delicious burn that travels down her throat.

           The insecurity returns for Brienne as the sweat dampens her dress. She quickly sprays perfume all over herself, smoothing her hair, also moist with sweat. Renly is gathered in a group hug, squealing happily. “You killed it out there, Ren!”

            “My specialty is murdering people with my mad DJing skills, B.”

            “No mate that would be me.” Jon Snow is in tow with Ygritte, his arm around her slender hips. His hair is in a wild bun. Sweat shines on his forehead. “You’re just my sidekick.”

            “A sexy sidekick at that.” Loras bumps hips with Renly. A young brunette with a backstage badge arrives. She is trying to appear cool and calm standing in front of the duo. “Mind if I get a few shots of you guys?”

          They gather in a disorganized cluster, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Brienne grins brightly, standing between Margaery and Renly. “All of you look great. This is totally going to be featured online and print.”

       “Which magazine do you work for?”

           “ _Rebel_.” Pia states proudly. Brienne is hit with the hunger. Her breath is hitching, the warmth enveloping her stomach. As Pia leaves, Brienne stops her. “Tell Jaime I said hi.”

          The desire remains with Brienne after she arrives home at Winterfell. She sheds her dress, filling the bathtub with warm water. She slinks under, closing her eyes. After she returned from Paris, Brienne expected to have more flashbacks and dreams. They ended when she said goodbye to Jaime. She has questioned Jaime’s choices. Of secretly sharing a bed with his sister and of taking the blame for Bran’s accident. However poor his choices were, Jaime had one underlying reason: love.

_The things I do for love._

           Brienne slathers on body lotion, taking her time in caressing each inch of herself. For a brief moment, she can imagine someone else smoothing the lotion on her skin. She slips on her large night shirt of The Beatles. When she is about turn off the lights, she stares at her parent’s wedding photo. Arm in arm, they walk down the aisle as husband and wife. Her mother carried a huge garish bouquet of white roses the size of an infant. Beside that photo was of Brienne, Galladon and their father in Miami Beach last year.

            A sudden hunger is triggered by the thoughts of Galladon as she heads to the kitchen. The cold and syrupy mango Popsicle slides down her throat. Galladon loved them, as he always stocked on them when Brienne visited. In a strange tribute to her brother, Brienne attempted to eat all of the Popsicles in the fridge. Selwyn found her back against the kitchen cabinets and silently joined his daughter.

         The gravity of her grief pushes down against her back as she slides down the floor. The tears drip down her eyes, the grief crashing down on her. She mourns for her parents. Her brother. And for the love that got away.


	16. Hey Brother

             Jaime has a spring in his step, making the trip that he desperately longed for. It was prompted with the group photo with Brienne and sending a hello. For a few seconds, Brienne’s hypnotic blue eyes, wiped away all of his thoughts. This opens a new line of communication, a second chance to redeem himself.

            The door alerts of Jaime’s arrival. The shop is illuminated by the sunshine, cozy and welcoming. Air particles angelically float above the customers. Jaime’s head darts all over, hoping to spot the fluffy blond head. In the counter, Ayra is playing with her iPod. “Can I help you?”

            “I’m looking for Brienne—”

            Catelyn Stark comes out of the backroom. She doesn’t hide her contempt towards him. “Is there something you’re looking for?”

            “Is Brienne here?” Jaime asks skittishly.

            Catelyn dumps the box on the counter. “Brienne is out for the afternoon. With someone else.” There is an undertone of resentment in her voice that makes Jaime squirm. “Someone who loves her and would never hurt her like you have to others.”

            “Ms. Stark, you have every right to hate me. But I wasn’t the one—”

            “I’m over the anger phase, Mr. Lannister. I’m only grateful that Bran is still alive. I suppose I should be grateful that you paid for the medical bills.” Jaime knows that Catelyn is finding relief in venting out her hatred. He takes it, slowly nodding his head in agreement. “Is there something else I can help you?”

            “Uh…I’ll just get this.” It is not until Catelyn dirty look and Ayra’s snort does Jaime realize that he is holding a copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_. He places the book back and instead pays for a dolphin shaped bookmark, saying a quick goodbye and leaving with the little dignity he has left. The bitterness that simmers is not directed at Catelyn, but at Cersei. On the last conversation he had with her, Jaime spewed his pent up resentment, screaming at each other until pushing her away. She didn’t cry out of pain, but of rage, vowing that they would always be together. “You belong to me! You don’t chose who you love!”

            Just when things can’t get any worse for Jaime, Tywin’s voice booms in his ear, wanting to meet him in his office. There is no need to explain himself to Tywin. He already knows.

            There is a desire to run, to escape, to take the next flight and leave. Running won’t accomplish anything. His burdens and sins are embedded in his DNA. The things he has done are forever part of him. Nothing can erase that. He’s lost Brienne to the unnamed lover. He’s is about to lose Tommen and Myrcella.

            Stannis is getting off the elevator. Rage spills itself to Jaime, knowing that Stannis is the one who voiced his suspicions to Tywin. “You fucking asshole.” Jaime growls. Instead of seeing triumph for serving Jaime more misery, Stannis looks to Jaime with sympathy and then fear. He guides Jaime past the bathroom and opening the door outside to the garbage dump. “Perfect location, Stannis. I’m able to destroy your face in private.”

            “Jaime, I can explain—”

            Jaime flings his arms up in surrender. “What’s there to explain, Stannis? You told on my father that Tommen and Myrcella are my kids and not Robert’s. I’ll take the blame for fucking my own sister, but what I won’t allow is for you,” He points his finger towards Stannis’s chest. “Or anyone to separate me from _my_ kids.”

            “Okay, I was the one who told—”

            “I’m really going to punch you—”

            “Jaime!” Stannis holds his hands in front. “Hear me out. You can agree with me when I say that your family is really fucked up. Well, except for Tyrion, he’s the sanest—”

            “Leave Tyrion out of it!” Jaime barks.

            “Yes, fine, I’m sorry. That said, as far as parenting goes, I would consider you a saint, compared to your father and my brother.” Stannis hands a manila envelope to Jaime. As he opens it, Stannis says, “You’re father was going to give up Tyrion for adoption. It was because of your aunt Genna that he decided not to.”

            In the letter, Genna implores for him to think of his wife and what she would think if she were alive. _Johanna loved Jaime and Cersei. She would have given the same love to Tyrion. The poor baby is not to blame for her death. Please, Tywin, don’t do this to Tyrion. Or for your other children. And especially Johanna._

“Should this surprise me?” Jaime asks this to himself. “Then again, the Lannisters are capable of anything. Why’d you give me this?”

            “I thought of Shireen, believe it or not. Tyrion is short of size, but huge at heart. Shireen has that facial deformity, but that doesn’t change anything about her. I see how much you love your brother. And those kids are crazy in love with their father.”

            Both men are quiet. A fly buzzes around Jaime’s head. His stomach churns from the lingering scent of rotting waste. They part ways, suddenly feeling a bit lighter. Why he does is beyond him.

            Petyr leers at Jaime as he marches to his father’s office. Tywin is sitting on his office chair, gazing at the view of the skyline. “They’re mine.”

            Tywin swivels his chair to face Jaime. “We both have known that, haven’t we?”

            “And I want custody of them—”

            Tywin bangs his fist against the mahogany desk. The pencil holder clatters and tips over. “Do you think I will allow my son, whom had sex with his sister, to claim custody of my grandchildren?”

            “And do you think I’m going to allow my father, who was about to give up my brother for adoption, to have custody of _my_ kids?” Jaime slaps the envelope on the desk. He didn’t need to open it. “Stannis gave it to you. He does have a sort of soft spot for Tyrion.”

            “You always hated him. You never once saw past his size, focusing on how mom died while giving birth. Didn’t you say that family is everything? What ever happen to that concept?”

            Tywin stares coldly at Jaime, slowly raising himself up off the chair. “I had high expectations for you, Jaime. You were the only redeemable offspring I had.”

            “What about Tyrion?” Jaime exclaims. “He graduated from Harvard law on the top of his class. Has the brains and heart, more than the rest of us—”

            “Well, thank you very much Jaime. I’m quite flattered.” The tension between Jaime and Twyin heightened with Tyrion’s entrance. Jaime angrily snatches the letter from the desk. “Sorry to ruin you day.”

            Tyrion mumbles the letter out loud before he stops. “Aha. Now I know why you hate me so much. I wish Genna was here so I can thank her.” Tyrion laughs bitterly. “You would have wished me dead just so you could bring mom back. A great bargain, I’d say. So what does the great lawyer has to say in his own defense?” Tywin looks down, mumbling something. “You’re both a disgrace—”

            “That doesn’t matter!” Tyrion shouts. He jabs at his own chest. “I’m your son. We will always be your sons.”

            Tywin squints his eyes as if he is trying to search for that truth. Tywin takes a step before crumpling to the floor. His arms raised up in surrender, his face twisted in shock.

 

 

 

            “Hello…my name is Jaime Lannister.” He takes a sip of his wine glass. “You killed my father…I will split you in two.” Tyrion blinks at Jaime, then shaking his head. “What? It’s just a joke.”

            “A drunken one.” Tyrion snatches the wine glass and stepping on to the stool to wash the dishes. "And the line is ‘prepare to die.’”

            “Scratch that, we killed our father. Also the massive stroke.” The reason why Jaime broke into tears wasn’t of grief. Nor was it relief. It was his breaking point. A collimation of constant loses and death. Of the cluelessness on what Jaime should do. Tommen and Myrcella didn’t react to their grandfather’s death. Jaime gave them the option of not attending the funeral. Jaime almost burst into more tears when they decided to go, out of loyalty for their uncle.

            The brothers had no reason why they should give eulogies. Pycelle bumbled for ten minutes, on how Tywin built one of the most successful law firms in New York. Selmy and Stannis also felt obliged to speak. Stannis was the shortest. Five minutes.

            Tywin would have approved for his grandchildren’s dry faces as his coffin was lowered. Myrcella discreetly yawned, while Tommen quietly asked if they would be able to go out for dinner. Stannis pulled Jaime aside to the terrace. There wasn’t any need to offer Jaime his condolences since he was more relieved than grief stricken. They kept the conversation short, Stannis mentioning of the possibility to gain custody of Tommen and Myrcella through a century old law that was still in place. Like him and Cersei, the twins for whom that law was created, had twin boys. His brother-in-law worked for the mafia as did his wife. Both were convicted for a string of murders and the brother was granted custody, being named the legitimate father. Stannis assured Jaime of him making the arrangements for the case.

            “And to think you of all people could have soften up Stannis Baratheon.” Tyrion muses, holding up the wine glass to the light. “Looks clean to me, dad.”

            “He’d loom over you once that glass was spotless.”

            “Remember the time when he complained to Joffrey of it not being clean enough?”

            “Right before his high school graduation, wasn’t it?”

            Tyrion recreates Joffrey’s shrill. “’I don’t have to clean these stupid dishes! Have the imp do it instead!’ Father slapped Joffrey so hard, his cheek bled. Later in the evening, Joffrey snuck into the kitchen for a late night drink. I accidentally bumped into him, causing him quite of a bit of pain.” He jabs his elbow in where he aimed at Joffrey’s crotch. “I may be the imp, but at least I didn’t limp.” Jaime covers his mouth to avoid his laughter to bubble out. Once they finish, Jaime’s head starts to clear up, as is the prelude of the incoming hangover. “Hey, Tyrion. The thing I said about splitting you in two because of father…it really was a joke.”

            “You’re almost sober, brother. The weepy apology is a signal of that.”

            “It really was stupid of me to say that. If he did something, like have an affair with Sansa, even then I would understand why you would kill him.”

            Tyrion stares at Jaime, openly questioning the sanity of his older brother. “You just took two step back from you’re sobriety. Number one, Sansa isn’t the one to fall for the elderly rich lawyer. And number two you’re really asking me if I would kill our father?”

          “Would you ask me if I would kill my own brother?” Jaime has never felt so emotional, bursting into tears at a moment’s notice. Through it all, Jaime could always count on Tyrion as his first responder to any crisis he had. He smiles of the memories of the long phone conversation while in college, spending time in his apartment watching reruns, their bellies comfortably filled with food and wine. It is one of the redeeming factors for Jaime in his unconditional love for Tyrion.

          “I love you too, Gold Lion.” Tyrion tenderly pats Jaime’s leg. Jaime flops to bed, the mattress groaning. It still smells of sandalwood. He turns his head, reaching out for his father’s wallet. There is a picture of him on his wedding day. Tywin had heart eyes, staring at his wife, his hand cupping her back. “How could you, father? Why did you?” Jaime asks to his father’s former self. Tywin’s MasterCard falls on Jaime’s face.

          The though comes to Jaime’s mind in perfect clarity.

_A Lannister always pays his debts._

            It would be Tywin who would finally pay for his.

 


	17. One More Chance To Make It Right

           “Cat, what the hell were you thinking?” Brienne tries to keep her voice in the deli. “You made it seem that I was really out with some other lover.” In reality, Brienne was with Margaery.

            “You never informed me that you knew, Mr. L—”

            Brienne stops Catelyn. “His name is Jaime. I met him during the flight. He isn’t what you think he is.” The thoughts of Jaime brightened her mood. “You told him because of your resentment over the accident with Bran.”

            “He almost killed—”

            “Jaime wasn’t the one driving the car! It was his sister, Cersei. He took the blame for her which says a lot about him. You don’t believe me, ask Bran.”

            Catelyn turns to him. “Sweetie is this true?” Bran nods his head in confirming the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “I was conked out from the morphine, and I couldn’t remember anything. It wasn’t until I saw the picture of Cersei after her death when I finally remembered. Hey, at least he paid for the medical bills.” Ayra arrives with their food. They each eat silently, Brienne digging into the bag of greasy chips. She suddenly feels for Cat as she is instantly regretting her decision. “Now I’m being made out like a bitch. Ned always called me Lady Stoneheart, the coldest bitch in this side of the city.”

            “That Ned Stark,” Brienne got up and hugs her employer and surrogate mother. “Your heart is as pure as anything.”

            “Nah, dad was right. She can be a real—” Ayra punches Bran’s arm. “Ouch!”

            Catelyn sighs. “And our moment has been interrupted by these two. I do suppose I should apologize, for what I said. I’m assuming you haven’t been in touch with Jaime?”

            “He’s the editor-in-chief of a magazine. It’s been hard to reach out to him.” Cat knows why Brienne hasn’t been able to do so. Not because of schedule, but of the heart. “Honey, you accomplished in having Jaime Lannister swoon for you like a fool. You’ll need to hurry up and claim him before another gal does.”

            The longing for Jaime wraps around Brienne’s chest. The desire clawing from the inside. More heat rises from her cheeks. Cat invites Brienne to go to Robb and Tallisa’s for dinner, who works alongside Robb as an ER nurse. She recently announced of her pregnancy last week. The atmosphere in their house bubbled with joy. Afterwards, Brienne cried in her bed, more for her own loneliness. “Thanks Cat, but there’s something I need to do.”

            Brienne makes a stop at Winterfell, choosing her outfit. The same on as when they first met. This time, Brienne carefully applies the shimmery blue eyeliner with a bit of mascara. Just the right amount to give her the au natural appearance and not that of a clown. She claps her Mother Dragon watch, sprays on body mist and heads out the door.

            While riding the train, she notices a few men glancing at her. What surprises her is not of their revulsion, but of their interest.

            The sun sets the city in a creamsicle glow, the glass buildings mirroring it. _Should I even do this? What makes me think Jaime would want to continue our friendship?_

            She shakes the doubts floating in her head. Entering the offices, her confidence sinks. As she walks out, she collides with Tyrion. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Did I hit you?”

            “Nope, I’m good. If you don’t mind me saying, but you are one good-looking lady. Anything I can help you with?”

            “I’m looking for Jaime. Just…wanted to say hi.” Tyrion knowingly gazes at Brienne. “That is if he’s available.”

            “I think I do recognize you. From the photo Pia took after the concert. Gods, Jaime was staring at that photo for a long time. With those heart eyes.” Tyrion chuckles. Brienne expierences relief that Jaime still has feelings for her. “Thanks for the complement. So is he here?”

            “Actually, no. He left. Said something about paying a debt. Took the kids with him too.”

            “His kids, you mean.” Brienne says quietly.

            “Yes his kids. Honestly they need a vacation with both Cersei and our father dying within a short timeframe.”

            “I’m very sorry for your losses, Tyrion.”

            He waves his hand away indifferently. “Meh, I’d say good riddance to both. They made life misery for myself, Jaime and the kids. I mean, Jaime loved Cersei…but time passed and he no longer felt that love. But you changed him, Brienne. No woman has ever done that.”

            “That eight hour changed us both.”

            “You two are long overdue for a reunion.” Tyrion winks. “Leave that to me.”


	18. All These Things That I've Done

         The iron bar is firmly secured on Jaime’s waist. Myrcella and Tommen sit between him, wiggling their legs in excitement. “After this one, no more okay?” They made their way up slowly, Jaime’s heart lurching. He did enjoy the view as a curtain of purple velvet is draped over the amusement park. The lights swirls from the other rides and food stands. Just as soon as Jaime asked them where they want to go for a last minute vacation, both mentioned King’s Landing, the amusement park that was located right outside of Montreal. Jaime only had to worry on the six hour drive. As for the cost, Tywin’s MasterCard would cover for everything and more. With each swipe of the card in the Sofitel for the full room suite, the dinners and souvenirs, Jaime’s message was clear. _You’re paying for your debts now._

            His hands grips the bar, feeling his body flung against his seat. The terror gave way to a surge of adrenaline. His heart inside his throat. A cough away from being spit out. Tommen lifts his arms, his mouth wide open in delight. Myrcella did the same, cheering with every twist and turn. Jaime copies both, letting out a scream, flapping his arms like a bird trapped in a cage.

            At the end, the three wobble out of the roller coaster. Tommen holds on to Jaime as he sways towards a garbage can. “No more, okay? Third times the charm.”

            “Let’s get some poutine!” Tommen drags him to the food stand, selling the food staple that is the pride of Quebec. Jaime has been to Montreal several times, for both work and leisure. He’s fond of the city and its natives. _Rebel_ did a cover story on Montreal, profiling restaurants and places to go. One of Jaime’s favorite places is Mont Royal Park. The observation points offer spectacular views of the city below with the St. Lawrence River meandering through it.

            In the morning, Jaime quietly gets up, checking his voicemail. He decides against it, turning it off. If he’s going to finally take up his new occupation as a single dad, he’ll need to find time for his children. From the view below, Jaime sees students walk towards McGill, the lush green campus. The Canadian flag flaps proudly next to the provincial flag of Quebec.

            Myrcella pads across his room. Jaime marvels at his daughter. Her light blond hair in a loose and messy braid. Her face blurred from sleep but still smiling. “You slept okay, Myrcie?”

            “I slept great.” Jaime knows that it would be the perfect time in telling her the truth. “Come sit next to me.” _I can do this. She and Tom-Tom need to know._ “You know that I love the both of you with all my being. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, more than you already have.” When Jaime is about to confess, Myrcella stops him. “You don’t have to tell me anything, dad. I know.”

            Jaime is struck dumb, the words leaving him completely. “Huh?”

            “I know about you and mom. I guess a part of me always knew. You loved each other, but mom was often times a bitch to you. But you know something? I’m happy that you’re my dad.” Myrcella folds into Jaime’s arms. He doesn’t know how to react, what to say, how to feel. Tommen appears from the doorway and he joins in the hug also smiling. It is apparent that both know the truth and still continue to love him. 

            “You’re the best uncle/dad ever.” Tommen’s comment instigates laughter from Jaime and Myrcella.

            Both of the kids are asleep as Jaime drives home to New York. They spent the early afternoon exploring Downtown Montreal, buying gifts and indulging on more poutine. He has the radio on low, listening to the news. He switches the station, listening to a song that Jaime recognizes. About holding on, about mistakes being made, about finding the meaning in those mistakes and moving forward. Once reaching home, Jaime drives past the bridge where Cersei almost took him and Myrcella with her to the grave.

            His biggest regret is Cersei. But what came out of it is Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey was too much like his mother. Unreachable and unpredictable. Filled with resentment and rage, but also hurt. Myrcella is curled up beside him with a shadow of a smile.

            _Over and again, last call for sin. While everyone’s lost, the battle is won. With all these things that I’ve done._

            He pulls up to the house. The tears come down. He stares at House Lannsiter with contempt. Maybe sometimes one isn’t able to choose who they love. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t choose on the type of life they wanted to live.

            Jaime peeks over the gift bag behind him. Tommen lays across the seat with his back turned away. Inside is a bear with the RCMP uniform. For his maiden fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poutine is a very beloved dish in Quebec of hot fries with gravy and cheese curds. This chapter is based on my trip to Montreal last year. A city worth visiting.


	19. Suddenly You're Mine

         To calm her nerves, Brienne focuses on _Breaking Bad_. Two episodes later and she still isn’t able to relax. Tyrion facilitated her reunion with Jaime the previous day. A moment of awkwardness lead for them to stare at each other, until properly embracing. “Hi Brienne. Good to see you again.”

            “I missed you, too.” The apologizes and excuses were etched in his eyes. But the words evaporated as Brienne knew his reasons and her willingness to pick up where they left off 35,000 feet up.

             Brienne quickly scrambles to her feet, opening the door. Jaime’s is in a jeaned jacket with matching jeans and converse. His long locks of hair perfectly frame his high cheekbones. He holds a bottle of Chardonnay. “My favorite wine.” He admires the small apartment. “Nice place you have here.”

            “Oh please. You live in Riverrun, the pinnacle of luxury. You just say that to flatter me.” She uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses of the chilled wine. “What shall we toast to?”

              “To new beginnings.” Their clink echoes across the kitchen. She is at ease with how the wine dulls her insecurity, blurring the edges of her vision. “Ask anything. I won’t hold back.”

            “Did you have the flashbacks during the flight?” Brienne inquires.

           “I did. The one about a disgraced knight and the wench who saved his life. I meant the maiden, not wench.”

          Brienne smiles and gestures to the fridge. “I stocked up on ginger ale, don’t worry. How did I look like to you?”

           “Same size, broad shoulders, fluffy blond hair, can be a real bitch when provoked.” Jaime pauses, taking a breath. “But also brave, loyal and kind. Someone you would want to have on your team if ever you should find yourself in the clutches of a bear. I don’t think I should ask, but how did I look like to you?”

             “Arrogant, cocky, a total asshole and a ruthless swordfighter. Not to mention very handsome, even if you looked like a hobo. But after your hand was chopped off, you changed for the better. You were able to open up to me and seeing a different side that no one else knew about. You had your reasons on the actions you committed, both good and bad.” Both repeat the famous phrase that Jaime’s medieval counterpart developed as a mantra. “The things I do for love.”

            Jaime tilts the bottle to his glass. “That didn’t come so handy with taking the fall for Cersei’s accident. It was instinctive, something I did without thought. Maybe by loving her more, she would change. I gave her everything, but it wasn’t enough. She was a vampire, manipulative and a pure bitch.” Jaime spat each of Cersei’s attributes with revulsion. His expression darkens, his fingers curling the wine glass so tightly that Brienne hears the glass groan. “Uh Jaime…”

            Jaime stares at the empty seat next to Brienne. His field of vision isn’t directed towards her, but she feels the rage radiating from his eyes. “You are a vile and hateful woman. Why the fuck did I ever fall in love with such a vile and hateful woman?”

           “ _Was_ Jaime. Was a vile and hateful woman.” Brienne stood up with purpose, snatches the wine glass away from his hand and tosses it to the sink behind him. By the time it lands with a crack inside the sink, Brienne is on Jaime’s lap, her fingers digging in his hair. Jaime grabs her breasts, giving them a firm squeeze that makes Brienne moan loudly. No words in any language can express the range of emotions she is experiencing. Pleasure when Jaime kisses every inch of her neck. Confusion with growing wetter with each time his hand squeezes her breast. Excitement when Jaime slips his hand inside her pants—

           “Wait! Stop!” Brienne’s back is on the table, the wine bottle is on the very corner about to fall. She catches just when it makes its descent towards the floor. “Not here.”

 

 

             They touch, they kiss, they take off their clothes…expect their underwear. Brienne expected Jaime to have sex and would have welcomed it. But he is careful, taking his time to admire her body, smoothing out her curves, tucking his arms under her breasts. In a way, Brienne is relieved with his decision. She drifts in and out of sleep, feeling euphoric and then at peace.

              Her room is bathed in blue before the dawn breaks, revealing a hue of pink in the sky. It is smeared with dark lavender clouds, the sun peeking through one of them. Horns hock from below, loud music blasts from portable speakers. It serves as a peculiar comfort for her. Jaime’s arms are comfortably wrapped under her breasts. Her back leans against his chest. Brienne wishes to stay like this for the rest of the day. “Great trial run, Jaime.”

            He moans as he scoots closer. “We can alternate apartments. My place tonight?”

           The roles revered for Brienne snapping Pod from his daydreams. He did this twice as Brienne relives last night with Jaime. Instead of blushing, she stupidly smiles, looking forward to what is in store. Ayra need not take guess the reason for Brienne’s behavior. “Ohhh…you had a sleepover, didn’t you? Did you two have sex?”

            “Why should I tell you anything? Your mom will fire me for serving as a bad influence.”

           Margaery notices Brienne’s heart eyes at lunch in _Tavern on the Green_. “Same look Daario has when we see each other. And when we Skype.”

             “Never imagined feeling this way for anyone, especially for him.” Brienne says, sipping on her glass of lemon water.

           “All I can tell you is to enjoy every minute of it. If anyone deserves a chance at true love it’s you.”

          Jaime is waiting for Brienne down in front of Riverrun. The green plaid shirt hugs Jaime’s torso perfectly. The black jeans hugs his hips in such a way that Brienne begins to feel a pool of warmth inside. Brienne didn’t except the spectacular view of the skyline from the living room. What she also wasn’t expecting is a cluster of colored pens spilling from a glittery pencil case. A pink cardigan is draped from the white leather loveseat. Two ninja action figures spy from under the coffee table. “Two more tenants?”

            Jaime smiles sheepishly as he grabs the cardigan, hanging it on the coat rack. “They saw through my fib of a late business meeting. Myrcie was excited that you are my new lady friend. She went a few times to _Bookends_ with Tom-Tom.”

             With a chilled bottle of wine and a platter of sushi, both went up to the rooftop veranda. They hop over the gate, setting up their late night dinner beside the hot tub. “Most of the tenants sneak here after hours. I bribed them with a free subscription, so we’re good.”

              They stay in the hot tub, eating and drinking, speaking about anything. From Jaime’s finalizing the custody case, to Brienne’s memories on Galladon and airing out random thoughts. They stay in the hot tub until their skin is pruned. Jaime is the first to hop out when he loses his footing, falling into Brienne’s arms.

            In their eyes, they understand it is a recreation of their position. Of the turning point of their journey. The water slushes over as Jaime pulls Brienne down with him. “This didn’t happen in the dream.”

            “Who cares? It’s happening now.”

 

 

            Myrcella dawdles along Fifth Avenue, eyeing the accessories like any girl would. Brienne is an instant hit with her and Tommen. They gave Jaime the green light. “Oh look!” Myrcella exclaims. “Dany T’s out with a new fragrance!” The frosted pink heart shaped bottle is elegantly displayed inside the boutique. Dany T lies on a chaise lounge with a creaming pink gown. The tagline for _True Love_ : _Sometimes love is right in front of you._ Jorah served as the muse. This theory is further reinforced with both designer and publicist getting cozy at a fashion show, holding hands as he whispered in her ear. “Dad, do you think you can ask her for a bottle?”

            “That all depends if she has some to spare and of you keeping up with school.”

            “If I do well in school, can I get a new skateboard?” Tommen asks hopefully.

            “Are you sure you’re up for skateboarding, Tom-Tom? Last time you fell flat on your cheek.”

            “Come on, Tom-Tom is tough as nails. He isn’t giving up, are you?” Brienne rallies around his new venture in skateboarding. At the ER, Tallisa marveled on how he only yelped and not scream with cleaning the giant scab wound. Jaime’s current affliction is of the instant heart eyes he has with the kids referring him of his rightful title. It is also officially sanctioned by the court.

            “You left your brush again this morning.” Jaime says, kissing the nape of her neck.

            “It’s easy to lose items in House Lannister. I’ll have to enjoy it while I still can’t.” She understood Jaime’s desire to sell the house, haunted by many ghosts and regrets. “’Daddy dearest would be rolling in his grave’. That’s what Tyrion told me.”

            “He was already rolling when I spent nearly $2,000 on the trip to Montreal.” Jaime spots a gentleman buying a copy of _Rebel_. It is hard not to miss the cover of two women draped in the rainbow flag, sharing a kiss. “You’re in for a treat, sir.”

            “Looks like it. I’ve heard plenty of this magazine from word of mouth.” He is the gothic version of Santa Clause in black, adding suspenders and a black cap to complete the outfit. “I notice the spelling of your first name. I before M, yes?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “I am assuming this lovely lady is your fiancé?”

            “Eventually.” Brienne laughs.

            “And what would your name be?”

            “Brienne Tarth.” She graciously holds out her hand. His handshake is strong but friendly.

            “You don’t mean Of Tarth? From Sapphire Isles?” He asks.

            “Well, our great-great-great grandfathers fought in the same side in the war for independence. In a way we are related. As far as middle name, I have none, certainly not Of.”

            He chuckles and shakes his head. “My, my is a coincidence. Your counterparts don’t have it this easy. They hated each other, called each other names, swordfights, taken prisoners themselves and plenty of other things. But eventually they develop a deep respect for each other. Many fans have taken their relationship into a romance, to which I can understand.”

            Brienne is dumbfounded. Jaime appears to feel the same way with how this man knows about the spelling of their names and the Sapphire Isles. “And who might you be, sir?”

            “I’m George.” Peeking behind his head, Brienne makes out George’s full name and the gold embed title from the bulging paperback novel. _Game of Thrones._ “Would you recommend reading your novels?”

            “It’s up to you. But I don’t want to traumatize you with the mirage of deaths in both the books and the show like millions have already been.” With a tip of his cap, George says goodbye. They both stare at the novel, deciding if they should find out what occurs to their fictional counterparts. “Hey, Jaime…should we read the books?”

            “Wouldn’t it be bad luck if we did? You know, if they both get killed or something?” Myrcella and Tommen chose which candy bars they wanted. Brienne is tempted in buying _Game of Thrones_. She asks the woman behind the counter. “Love the books. The show is amazing. But it’s not a good idea to fall in love with any of the characters since nine times out of ten, they die.” She gushes about the story arcs, rages against the writers who destroyed the previous season.

            “All we have is now.” Brienne whispers, jamming the bills back in her wallet. Jaime’s hand is on the small of her back as they walk away. “Let’s do _The Walking Dead_ instead.”        


End file.
